


The Overdone AU

by IambicKentameter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Fem!Cas, Fem!Sam, Fix It Fic, Genderswap Everyone, It changes after chapter 1, Kinda, Rule 63, fem!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 14:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14672688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IambicKentameter/pseuds/IambicKentameter
Summary: The first chapter is basically a word for word recreation of 'Lazarus rising', but Rule 63.Sort of derails from there...





	The Overdone AU

Ever since she was young, Dean had known. Known that a boy would never touch her like they did to the girls on TV, known she’d be doomed to a life of torment because she tried to look up the other girls’ skirts when they were on the swings. 

Hell, her father dressed her, all tank tops under long sleeved flannel button downs, old, worn, hand-me-down jeans so old that they clung to her hunting-toned ass and thighs, but were still loose enough around the ankles to hide a gun.

Dean looked at herself in the rearview mirror of her baby, pulled her shoulder-length hair back into a ponytail as her sister slid into the car, holding takeout from the diner where they’d been parked. She smiled over at Sam. “Extra onion?”

Sam squinted in the low light, then scowled. “You weren’t wearing lipstick before.”

Dean’s smile morphed into a lecherous grin. 

“Seriously?! I was gone for ten minutes!”

Dean shrugged. “She was alright.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Let’s just get back to the hotel and help Bobbi look for this ‘Castiel’ person.” She said, rooting through the bag for her salad.

“Health freak.” Dean grunted as she peeled out of the parking lot.

“You should be too, that body won’t last forever.” Sam punched her shoulder.

“Watch it, this is new!” Dean squwaked. “I want to get to the hotel before my burger gets cold.”

~*~

Dean woke and rubbed her eyes. The T.V. in their hotel room had gone to static, and the radio was emitting a high pitched tone. 

She jumped off of the bed and picked up her gun, approaching the door cautiously.

It was the same as in the gas station, and Dean was worried.

The mirror hung above her shattered as the whining grew in pitch, Dean fell to her knees and covered her ears against the noise. 

The door burst open and Bobbi ran in, calling Dean’s name and grabbing her off of the floor.

“How ya doin, kid?” The older woman asked once in the relative safety of her car.

“Aside from the church bells in my head? Peachy.” Dean grumbled, wiping blood from various places with a tissues from Bobbi’s purse.

Bobbi was like one of those grandmothers with the huge purses that held everything, and in Bobbi’s case, this meant  _ everything. _

Dean slid her phone from her pocket and clicked the number ‘1’, then ‘call’.

Sam picked up almost instantly. “Hey.”

“What are you doing, where are you?!” She demanded.

“Couldn’t sleep, went to get a burger.”

“In my car?!”

“Habit, sorry.” 

“Well.” Dean glanced over at Bobbi. “Bobbi’s back, we’re going to get a beer.” Bobbi glared at her, a hint of panic in her eyes.

“Alright, spill some for me, huh?”

“Done, I’ll catch you later.” Dean hung up.

“The hell didn’t you tell her?” Bobbi demanded.

“She’d just try to stop us.”

“And?”

“We’re summoning this thing.” She put her phone away. “It’s time we face this thing head on.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“As a heart attack.” And she was.

“We don’t know what this thing is! It could be a demon, it could be anything.” Dean yanked the knife from her boot. “I’ve got the magic knife, you’ve got an arsenal in the trunk…” she trailed off.

“This is a bad idea…”

~*~

Everything was set. Devil’s traps in place, and a sharp tool to kill just about anything.

“This is still a bad idea.” Bobbi re-re-re-re fixed her ball cap over her thinning chin length hair.

“Yeah, Bobbi, I heard you the first ten times.” She looked over at her old friend. “What do you say we ring the dinner bell?”

Bobbi worked quickly, reinforcing the spell before beginning her recitation.

Silence. Utter silence for a full hour until Dean questioned Bobbi’s ability to summon something and jinxed them both to hell.

The tin roof shuttered violently and one by one the lights shattered. Dean readied her shotgun and the beam across the door rattled and cracked in half, revealing a trenchcoated silhouette. It approached, and Dean open fired, but the thing kept coming.

The two women looked at each other and simultaneously reached for a table, separating to cover more ground.

Dean picked up the knife and raised her head, finding herself eye-to-eye with a brilliant set of blues.

The woman, or rather, thing, looked over Dean softly as she demanded who she was.

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” She responded, her voice sounding as though she had something of a cold, or perhaps had gargled with gravel. 

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Dean narrowed her eyes. She was attractive, but not in a slutty way, like most demons. No low cut top, just a pantsuit. The woman looked up at Dean through her eyelashes, and Dean let her eat knife.

The woman snickered. Nothing happened, and Dean backed up in shock. The woman pulled the knife roughly from her own chest and dropped it to the floor.

Dean and Bobbi exchanged glances, and Bobbi swung her crowbar, and the woman caught it without blinking. She pressed two fingers to Bobbi’s forehead and Bobbi wilted, or rather, fell, considering her size.

“We need to talk, Dean.” The woman peered at Dean calmly, her eyes wide and innocent. “Alone.”

Dean dove to check that Bobbi was alive, only for the woman to assure her that she was.

“Who are you?”

“Castiel.” She meandered through their things, poking through them curiously, yet passively.

“I figured that much.” Dean spat. “I mean  _ what _ are you?”

Castiel looked at her with those baby blues again. “I am an Angel of the Lord.”

Dean stared at her in disbelief, and rose. “Get the hell out of here. There’s no such thing.”

“This is your problem, Deanna.” Castiel addressed her by her full first name. “You have no faith.” Lightning flashed and dark, wing shaped shadows covered the span of the wall behind Castiel.

Dean’s breath came in a short gasps. “Some angel you are.” She maintained her outer calm. “You burned out that poor man’s eyes.” Her thoughts drifted to Peter, still in the hospital.

“I begged him not to summon my true form. It can be… overwhelming to humans. So can my real voice. You already knew that.”

“The gas station and the motel?” Dean put two and two together. “That was you  _ talking _ ?”

Castiel nodded.

“Baby, next time lower the volume.” The term of endearment just slipped out.

“It was my mistake.” She apologised. “Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong.”

“What visage are you in now, then, huh? What, Holy Office Secretary?” She spat bitterly.

“This?” Castiel looked down at herself. “This is a vessel.”

“You’re possessing some poor bitch?”

“She’s a devout woman, she actually asked for this.”

“Look babe, I’m not buying what you’re selling, so who are you really?”

Castiel’s eyebrows crinkled and she tilted her head in a way that was… almost cute. “I told you.”

“Right.” Dean scoffed. “And why would an Angel rescue me from Hell?”

“Good things do happen, Dean.” Castiel took a step forward.

“Not in my experience.” She was getting too close for comfort.

“What’s the matter?” Castiel’s face took on a pitying quality. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” She seemed to read her mind.

“Why’d you do it?”

“Because God commanded it.”


End file.
